by Violet

Stale taste and thin air; is that what heaven’s made out of?
sweaty palms and yearning skin begging to be touched.. it all made me lose my focus, for the first time and only with you, I lost my words; and I keep doing so over and over again.
As many books I may read, as many questions I might seek to be answered and as much knowledge I thus would gain, I fear I still shan’t understand you. How frightful.

//yet why does it feel like I already do//